


He Could Look At Them For The Rest Of His Life

by Withstarryeyes



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anxiety, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, M/M, PTSD, Panic Attack, Post-Endgame, Shaky Hands, Tony Feels, Tony Stark Has Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony-centric, Whumptober
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-10 20:10:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20857559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Withstarryeyes/pseuds/Withstarryeyes
Summary: His heartbeat is thrumming, a quick blurred beat that echoes in his chest and in his ears and hisses down his neck that he’s missing something. There’s danger somewhere, lurking in the corners of the conference room.





	He Could Look At Them For The Rest Of His Life

His heartbeat is thrumming, a quick blurred beat that echoes in his chest and in his ears and hisses down his neck that he’s missing something. There’s danger somewhere, lurking in the corners of the conference room.

The back of his chair is sticking to his sweat-soaked shirt and Tony coughs once, then twice, taking a sip of water. It doesn’t help. He undoes the first button to his shirt, with shaky hands.  _ Danger Danger Danger _ . It’s in the hollow of his throat, a knife kissing his jugular. He needs to get out. 

Lukewarm air from the lagging air condition whispers against the curve of his neck and Tony feels his hair bristle. He swings his eyes haphazardly across the room. Natasha, Clint, Thor, Steve, Loki, they’re all there. Peter’s in school. Shuri and T’Challa and Buck are in Wakanda. Bruce is in his lab. 

Tony doesn’t know who to ask for help. He clears his throat again, feeling like it’s been sewn together in the back. He isn’t breathing, not correctly anyway, and a wayward wheeze shoots out like an arrow at Steve. Tony can see the moment that it makes contact, Steve’s blue eyes darting to look at Tony out of the corners. He pulls the water glass up to his mouth again but his hands are too unsteady and he upends it over his dress shirt. 

He doesn’t think to stand until Steve is there, his eyes soft and worried and a deep, glimmering sapphire. He takes Tony by the forearm and draws him out, avoiding the knowing eye of Fury as he continues talking. Somehow they all survived Thanos, somehow Tony’s brain doesn’t care. 

His legs give out in the middle of the lime green carpet of the hallway and Tony swings like a wooden door into Steve’s chest, only standing by the solid support of Steve’s grip. He smells like salt water, and Tony takes in a shuddering breath, hands clutched in the fabric. It’s soft. Tony counts the stripes he can see in the alarmingly small space of unblurred vision. Waves crash in his ears, he can’t hear anything and the silence is somehow calming. 

He zones out for a bit then, because he’s sitting against the wall, a few feet from the conference room. Beside him is the water cooler, and to the right is a window facing a mural of him in his suit. A half-Hispanic kid named Miles painted it. Tony paid the tuition to his fancy prep school, then introduced him to Parker when he saw a black spidey suit peeking out of his backpack. 

Tony cycles through names. Peter, Miles, Harvey, Shuri. Over and over. His heart slows but his traitorous hands keep quaking. He settles his weight over them, digging his nails into the carpet. Steve appears then, right beside him like he’d just teleported straight there. He feels off-kilter, unbalanced. Tony never misses someone walking up next to him. But somehow he’d missed Steve walking in and pressing his hand down. He’s holding a cup of tea and a Xanax. Tony takes the pill and swallows it dry. 

It’s only after he chases the aftertaste away with the tea that he realizes Steve and him haven’t said a word this whole time. Steve’s quieter now, after the battle, after giving his shield to Sam. He spends most of his time painting in Tony’s guest suite. It helps that half of them are of Tony himself in the nude. 

“Better?” Steve asks and for as little as he talks, every word he utters comes out warm. 

Tony nods shakily and pulls a hand through his hair. “Good as new.” He winces as the string of words collapses out of his mouth like a wet paper plane. Sometimes he feels like he talks only in colloquialisms. His therapist has a word for it but Tony’s never bothered to encode it. 

Steve offers him a hand up and Tony sags against Steve, leaving his full weight to bear on one supersoldier shoulder. Steve, for what its worth, doesn’t complain. 

“Do you want me to pick up Morgan and drop her off at Pepper’s? We can nap the afternoon away.”

Tony groans and shakes his head. They’re walking, closing in on the elevators now. Tony watches bubbles idly float up the water cooler. Steve pauses, leaning against the wall like its something he does every day, casual. Tony knows that it's his tell. 

“I wanna go out. Too much energy.” His hands quiver and Tony draws them into fists. “We should go to the park. Morgan likes the hot dog cart at the one. You know, the one.”

Steve’s eyes shimmer mirthfully. Tony thinks he could look at them for the rest of his life. “I do know. 

“Good, hop to it.” Another grimace. 

Steve just swallows Tony’s unsettled hands in his own and sidles into the elevator, dragging Tony along. Tony lets himself be pulled. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys, I hope you like this! I liked the day one prompt from Whumptober so I thought I'd write something to fill it. I apologize for not getting a chapter up for Don't Assume this past weekend, I've been quite busy lately. I will hopefully have something up by October 10th. I have a few exams before then so I am not sure it will be any sooner. 
> 
> Thanks,  
C


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